


Getting Handsy

by ClothesBeam



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Doctor/Patient, Fisting, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet finally gets a chance to get Drift into a real medibay after the Empire of Stone incident. To his surprise, Drift is as interested in him in the medibay as he is out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Handsy

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for nothing except the terrible title of this fic.

Drift had grumbled all the way to the medibay, but Ratchet had been as unrelenting as ever after they had finally found a suitable planet to stop at. “You’ve been putting those repairs off for far too long, now get in the wash rack so I can give you a detail clean and actually see how much of you is missing.”

“It’s not that bad,” Drift protested even as he let himself be dragged into the next room. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he loved being looked after like this. And Ratchet was always gentle and thorough with him.

In one corner there was a trolley of cosmetic implements such as cotton swabs, compressed air, wax, and paint guns. On the other side were showerheads and various detergents.

He felt cleaner already.

“How did you get access to this place?”

“You think anyone would dare say no to _me_ using a Cybertronian medibay?” he replied, pushing him straight over to the wash racks. “You’re filthy. We can do the fiddly stuff if we have time later.”

He turned the tap and Drift was surprised to see actual water.

“Solvent can be too harsh for badly injured patients, so they have water here where there's medics to make sure the patients don’t neglect drying off properly and rust away or some nonsense,” Ratchet explained without him needing to ask. “You may as well sit down.”

Drift did so, and flinched slightly when the warm water blasted the top of his helm and finials. Ratchet automatically reached out to cup the back of his neck to keep him still. Drift’s faceplate warming up had nothing to do with the heat of the water.

Ratchet moved on quickly and efficiently, deeming his faceplate to be clean enough, at least. The warm blast worked its way across and between the components of his shoulders before Ratchet raised one of his arms and started spraying his side. His grip loosened suddenly, but he didn’t slow down on the cleaning.

“Sorry, I should be asking you to move, not forcing you.”

“I don’t mind,” Drift replied quietly. He kept his optics glued to the floor.

Ratchet was quiet as he worked on his chest and middle before requesting, “Other side please.” It was another moment before he addressed Drift’s confession. “I’m flattered, but not while I’m working. Let me take care of your medical needs first, since _you_ obviously don’t give a damn about them.”

The promise of later action mollified him for now, but he couldn’t just order his arousal away at this point. And the more Ratchet’s hands ran over his plating, the harder it was getting to ignore. The hot water running into his joints and crevices didn’t exactly help the matter either.

“Stand up and turn around,” Ratchet said in the voice that left no room for argument.

Drift pressed his lips together as he obeyed and tried to focus on a meditation exercise to get his mind out of the gutter. He braced his hands against the wall as the jet of water moved over the tyres in his legs. He glanced down to see streams of filth running to the drain. He could see there was a lot of work to be done there, but the focus on those particular parts was getting him hot.

His optics widened when Ratchet grabbed his tyre, and he couldn’t stop the soft moan when he began to turn the wheel so the water could reach the other side of it. “Drift,” Ratchet scolded.

“I-I’m sorry Ratchet. I’m not trying to make your life difficult. It just feels so…” he trailed off with a soft groan and hunched his shoulders, trying to get a hold of himself.

Ratchet sighed. “Well, I’m nearly done here and I can’t see any major damage.” Drift resisted the ‘I told you so’. “Maybe we can take a short break before I start on the dents and paint.” And he was glad he’d held back.

“Thanks Ratchet. I love it when you look after me.”

Ratchet remained silent as he moved onto the other tyre. Drift didn’t bother to try and hide his shudder this time. “How did you let it get this bad?” Ratchet tutted.

“I was busy,” Drift managed to respond.

“Well _I_ won’t be letting it get that bad again.”

Drift felt his valve contract, his arousal becoming unbearable at his words. “I’d like that,” he murmured. He felt his back curving as the stream of water moved to his thighs. His face heated up more when he felt his interfacing panels finally give up and move aside.

He glanced back to apologise, only to see Ratchet was kneeling on the ground and detailing his feet with intense concentration. He glanced up when he was done. But instead of grumbling this time, he gave a warm smile. “All right, since you insist.”

Drift felt his valve clench again and his spike grew harder. He gasped when the warm jet of water brushed his interfacing equipment. “R-Ratchet!”

Ratchet got off the floor slowly and turned the tap off. Drift watched him sit down on the bench and pat his thigh. “Come on then.”

Drift moved quickly and eagerly, wrapping one arm around the medic’s shoulders as he sat in his lap with his legs spread across him so his feet were resting on the bench as well. Ratchet supported his back with one arm and placed his hand on his hip. The other was free to stroke the inside of his thighs.

Drift opened his legs wider, impatient now. “Ratchet, just touch me already!”

“I am touching you,” he murmured and leaned forward to press his lips against Drift’s.

Unable to complain again, Drift could only plead by jerking his hips desperately. He could feel the lube from his valve leaking onto Ratchet’s thigh, and he tried to stimulate himself by rubbing against it.

Ratchet sucked his bottom lip before backing off from the kiss. Drift jumped on his opportunity to speak. “Please Ratchet, I need you in my valve. I’m aching for you…”

“I’ll have to see if I can fix that, too,” he murmured, and pressed two fingers into the swordsmech’s mouth instead. Drift sucked on them sharply in frustration, not bothering about his denta.

“Ow!” Ratchet hissed, pulling his digits away. “Careful, my hands are even more sensitive than usual when caring for patients.”

“Sorry, but stop teasing me,” Drift whined. “I’ll be more careful this time.”

“I’ve… I’ve always wanted to play like this, with my sensitised hands. Are you sure you’re all right with this, as my patient?”

“If I wasn’t, I would’ve complained by now, wouldn’t I? Now just ‘get on with it’, as you’re so fond of saying, and f-” Drift’s rant was cut off by fingers once again being shoved into his mouth.

All right, so he had to get Ratchet as revved up as he was? Fine then. Ratchet needed to understand that he was now his partner first and a doctor second.

He smeared oral fluid liberally over his fingers, glossa lightly tickling all the planes and joints it could reach. Ratchet held him tighter at the stimulation and moaned. Drift tilted his head back a little so he could suck lightly up to the first joint and lick his glossa over Ratchet’s fingertips.

Ratchet’s grip on him loosened as he went strutless from pleasure. Drift kept sucking as he turned his head away, eventually making the fingers pop out, which freed his mouth. “I’ll do just as good a job on them with my valve, I promise. Please, Ratchet,” he whispered heatedly.

Ratchet glanced down at his valve, appearing to not quite be all there. Drift smirked, proud of himself, before the fingers entering his valve made him moan. _Finally!_

Ratchet scissored his fingers inside him, reaching for sensors and making him stretch very pleasantly. It seemed to be as good for Ratchet as it was for him. Drift ground his hips against him as best he could from the awkward position and moaned out loud once again when his thumb landed on his external sensors.

“Why don’t you put another finger in?” he suggested.

Ratchet pressed his lip plates together and did so, shuddering at the sensation. Drift flexed his valve around him, squeezing his fingers together and grinding for sweet friction. Ratchet cried out hoarsely, and Drift realised he’d somehow overloaded him without even opening his panels.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reluctantly slowing to a stop.

Ratchet nodded quickly, face slacker and hotter than he’d ever seen it before. “Don’t stop,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please Drift, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Drift licked his lips before shifting. “Let’s change our positions a bit.” Ratchet let him push him into the bench and Drift kneeled over him, taking hold of Ratchet’s wrist and making his fingers thrust in and out now.

He let out a high pitched keen as Ratchet curled his fingers up, hitting all the sensors at the top of his valve and pressing into the external sensors at the same time. Drift groaned as he continued to move like this, the pleasure almost too much. As it built and crested, he took Ratchet’s other hand, which had been resting on this thigh.

Drift gripped it tightly as his overload approached, and Ratchet hissed due to a combination of pain and pleasure. A thought occurred to Drift and he encouraged Ratchet to back down a bit. Ratchet looked worried, but they weren’t done just yet.

He brought the hand on his thigh up to his mouth and began to lick at it apologetically as he thought of how to explain himself. “Hmm, Ratchet… Do you think your whole hand can fit inside my valve?”

Drift took his wordless choke to mean he’d like to try it. He leaned back, pulling Ratchet up as he lay down. He spread his legs wider, letting one lean against the wall and the other fall off the bench, his pede against the floor.

He kept one of Ratchet’s hands near his mouth while the other worked on stretching his valve out even more. He smiled when he finally saw Ratchet’s panel snap open and his stout spike extend. Ratchet took his hand back for a moment so he could unbend Drift’s knee and straddle his thigh.

Drift moved the pede resting on the ground further away in an attempt to keep his legs wide. Ratchet reached out to touch Drift’s lips again before slowly drawing his other hand out of Drift’s valve. He lined up his fourth finger and pressed back in. “Is… is that ok?” Ratchet eventually managed to ask.

“Yes,” Drift murmured. “Try your whole hand, I can take it,” he added confidently. He massaged the hand by his lips as Ratchet did exactly that.

He squirmed when the bulk of his knuckles made it to his valve entrance. “Say if you want me to back off,” Ratchet intoned, even though Drift could plainly see that he desperately wanted the sensation all over his hyper-sensitised hand.

“I will,” he assured.

Ratchet nodded and continued pushing forward as Drift told his valve lining to relax. He could use his meditation to manage discomfort, if not arousal, it seemed. Just as he was about to tell Ratchet he wasn’t sure if he could take much more, the bulk of his hand passed and his valve swallowed him eagerly to his wrist.

Drift whimpered as Ratchet’s knuckles brushed the sensors at the top of his valve. The feeling was intense; he was almost afraid to move. He onlined optics he hadn’t registered had gone off only to see Ratchet was probably feeling the same way. His mouth hung open as he slowly flexed his fingers.

Drift took the hand resting on his cheek and sucked on the fingers firmly, making Ratchet cry out at the overstimulation. He began grinding his spike against Drift’s leg and letting his hand glide in and out of him.

Drift felt his head fall back as he lost all coordination, simply clinging to Ratchet’s hand instead of stroking it now. But at this point, the medic didn’t seem to notice or care. Drift cried out as his valve was finally satisfied and a powerful overload tore through his systems. He saw Ratchet come over his thigh before his vision faded.

* * *

 

Ratchet very carefully withdrew his hand, shuddering from the intensity of his overloads. He still couldn’t quite believe that Drift had let him take his fantasy so far, and that he even seemed to have enjoyed it just as much.

A quick check of his vitals showed Drift was fine and would probably come back round again very soon. Ratchet turned the shower back on to wash away the fluids that were covering the both of them, then carried Drift to the other side of the room where he could dry him off.

He wiped quickly with the soft material, not worrying too much about appearances since he still had a number of dents to beat and straighten out. Primus forbid someone actually do something to _assist_ his self-repair for a change.

Drift groaned as he came around, and had to reset his optics a few times. “Ratchet?”

“Right here,” he immediately informed, bending over him. “How do you feel?”

“Fantastic,” he said with a smile.

Ratchet returned it and leant down to peck him on the cheek. “Thank you for indulging me. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Drift only scoffed. “I think my valve is going to be pretty ‘uncomfortable’ for a while yet, but that’s about it. I trust you, Ratchet. While I’m thankful for your medical abilities, you’re my partner first. I just want to make you happy.”

Ratchet nodded before his smile dropped back to a serious expression. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to recover while I’m working on this,” he snapped as he released his tools from his arms and made for his shins. “You fragging neglectful idiot.”

Drift grinned, knowing what affection from Ratchet looked like by now. “You’re the one fragging me.”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, _Doctor_ ,” he replied, placing special emphasis on the title as he shifted the leg Ratchet wasn’t working on to draw his attention to his thighs again.

Ratchet still felt unprofessional, but he was happy and relieved that Drift had embraced his kink so wholeheartedly. “I said shut up. Or do you want to find out what happens to my naughty patients?” he threatened mildly.

“Do they get _both_ hands?”


End file.
